Page 59 of Collins
Grabbing the blanket I’d draped over the chair earlier, just in case the evening air turned too cool, I shake it open and settle it around her shoulders once we step off the patio. She clutches the edges close as we walk, leaning into my side while we make our way down the path toward the water.
The last golden sliver of sun sinks slowly toward the horizon. The kind of sunset that usually feels peaceful. Tonight, it feels heavy.
We sit at the end of the wooden dock, our feet dangling just above the quiet water as the day finally slips away. I don’t push the conversation further. I can feel how drained she is, how the weight of everything she’s revealed today has wrung her dry. Asking for more would be cruel.
So instead, we sit in silence.
Crickets begin chirping in the tall grass, frogs calling to one another. The breeze coming off the lake grows cooler as the light fades, brushing across the water and carrying a sharp bite.
Beside me, she shivers.
Without thinking, I pull her a little closer, tightening my arm around her shoulders beneath the blanket. I hope that somehow, in some small way, I can make the world feel lighter for her tonight.
“Come on,” I say, pushing to my feet. “Time for bed.”
I crouch down in front of her, lowering myself until we’re eye level. Turning slightly, I pat my shoulder. “Hop on.”
She doesn’t hesitate. Johnnie rises slowly from the dock and climbs onto my back as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Her arms slide around my shoulders and her weight settles against me. I hook my arms under her legs and stand, adjusting her easily against me. For a moment, she rests her cheek againstmy shoulder blade, breath warm through the thin fabric of my shirt. The contact feels intimate.
The walk back to the house is slow and steady. The grass squishy beneath my boots, we make our way up the path from the dock, the night air cooler now that the sun has completely disappeared behind the horizon. The sounds of a crisp fall evening follow us all the way up the yard, filling the silence between us.
When we reach the patio, I shift her weight slightly and manage to turn off the heat lamps and fireplace, then open the door with one hand. The house greets us with a soft rush of warmth as the heat kicks on, the vents humming quietly somewhere in the walls.
The stairs are still new. Fresh wood from the recent remodel, smooth beneath my feet as I carry her up toward the second floor. She stays quiet on my back, her arms loosely looped around my shoulders, her fingers occasionally tightening in the fabric of my shirt.
At the top of the stairs, I turn down the hall and push open the door to my bedroom. The space opens up around us, wide and quiet. The large king-size bed is sitting untouched in the center of the room, the dark comforter smooth and unwrinkled. But I walk right past it.
Instead, I carry her straight into the bathroom.
I step inside and lower her gently onto the edge of the oversized bathtub. She watches me with tired eyes.
I reach over and turn on the faucet, letting the water rush out in a steady stream as the tub begins to fill. Then I grab the bottle of bubble bath from the counter and pour a generous amount beneath the running water. My brothers roast me for having this girly shit but I stand by it, no regrets. After a long day, this tub filled with scalding water and bubbles is something my muscles thank me for. And look at it coming in handy now.
Within seconds, soft white foam begins to bloom across the surface. The scent of lavender slowly fills the room, warm and soothing.
From the closet beside the bathroom, I grab a thick towel and place it on the edge of the counter within her reach.
“Want me to refill your wineglass and bring it back up?” I ask gently.
She looks up at me, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, something defeated lingering in them. After a moment, she gives a small nod.
That’s all the answer I need.
Leaning down, I press a quick, gentle kiss to the top of her head before stepping away. “I’ll be right back.”
Standing in the kitchen, I pause for a moment, resting my hands against the counter as I reach for the bottle of wine. The house is quiet except for the faint sound of water still running upstairs.
And somehow…it feels different tonight.
Warmer.
More alive.
Knowing Johnnie is upstairs makes this place feel more like a home than it ever has since I moved in.
I glance around the kitchen as I pour the wine into her glass. I’ve never brought another woman here. Not once.
The realization settles over me. Sure, I’ve had hookups over the years. Nights that blurred together, faces that never stayed long enough to matter, but never here. Never in this house. Something about it always felt too personal. Too permanent. Like letting someone through that door meant letting them into something deeper than I was ready to share. Maybe I’ve been holding onto something all along without even realizing it.
